Dry Heat
by altersuperego
Summary: When Histugaya is rescued from imprisonment in Hueco Mundo, Zaraki takes it upons himself to cure him. HinaAizen, implied RanRen, ZarakixUnohana. But actually,very little romance. Lots and lots and lots of violence. Oh, and language. Please take care.
1. Chapter I

_OK, so … this is a dip into this new form I've discovered called Hitsu-whumping. I'm afraid this story might be a little dark even for fans of the genre. Hope you enjoy it. Or, well, hope you don't enjoy it, if you know what I mean. Flames accepted; I deserve them._

_Oh, and I think I borrow pretty heavily from some other fics I've read, but I'm not sure which. There's one in particular about Hinamori and Aizen… but I can't find it anymore. If you recognize your work, shoot me a line, and I'll acknowledge the debt._

_Do not own. Not at all. _

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Chapter 1

The Cage

Arrancar 14. Not too bad, he thought, picking his way through the littered bones. It meant a lot more than it used to. Five years after the Hougyoku's awakening, the Espada had expanded, and there was naturally more competition. Still…

He paused, and cast an eye over his shoulder. Over there.

The half-hollow grunted, and pulled out his long knife. This was ridiculous. If only they had held the trials the old fashioned way: blood to blood. He would have sorted out much higher. But the war had raged too long in stalemate – Hueco Mundo couldn't afford the losses of pure competition. Instead, he had endured some clinical tests, a few desultory sparring matches. Then they had handed him a number. 14. Catorce.

Not too bad.

Only one formality left, before the branding. Catorce adjusted his collar, trying to breathe a little easier. It was so damned hot in this hole. He ran through the rules in his mind one more time.

The shinigami was weaponless, no reiatsu worth speaking of. The candidate just had to find him, catch him, make him cry uncle. That was all. No killing, Aizen-sama had warned. No crippling. Nothing that couldn't be patched up.

Aizen's voice had been gentle. He had smiled. The memory sent a shudder down the new arrancar's thick frame. Those orders, he sensed, were not to be disregarded at any cost.

The giant figure started moving quietly towards the pile of rubble to his left, below the ruined archway. The dim light made it hard to see, and this place – this sprawling, abandoned stone prison – provided far too many shadows.

The blow came out of nowhere, with no warning. A weight landed squarely on the arrancar's shoulders, knocking him to his knees, then pain blinded him for just a moment. Instinctually, he swatted the air above him with one massive forearm. It made contact, knocking the attacker to one side. He could hear a body crash against a pillar not far away.

Catorce staggered, clutching his throat. A whitened bone had dug into the neck muscles, nicking an artery. Blood gushed in a slow beat through his fingers as he straightened, cursing.

The shinigami was trying to push himself up, elbows against his knees, still dazed from the force of the impact. Catorce regarded the smaller figure with a sneer – so this was Aizen's dragon. He barely looked seventeen years old. His shinigami robes hang torn around his waist, leaving his shoulders bare. He looked half starved, torso crossed with scar tissue and open wounds. His long hair was matted and filthy, but seemed to glow slightly. It must have been white, once.

No reiastu. None. Barely as powerful as a human ghost. How the hell had he managed to pierce steel skin with no spirit power?

Once again, there was no warning, no sound or wasted motion, when the shinigami launched himself forward. The arrancar smirked. The kid had lost any advantage of surprise, and without shunpo, his attacks were easily dodged. Catorce caught one wrist and twisted it hard against its natural arc, bending the young shinigami's arm towards the ground.

The motion produced a harsh cry that echoed eerily through the dungeon. The cry changed to a scream when Catorce wrenched the bone out of his own throat and plunged it into his opponent's hand, pinning it to the earth.

The half-hollow grunted, then squatted, weighing his options. What was the purpose of this ceremony, he wondered. Ambush aside, a hollow kitten could defeat this child. And yet, all arrancar wishing to join the army had to have a go.

Perhaps, he mused, as he watched the shinigami tremble beneath him, candidates were meant to … show off … their innate cruelty. Catorce leaned forward, a smile flickering across his broad features. He could oblige.

The arrancar never noticed that his knife was gone, never saw it clenched in one shaking hand, hidden beneath his opponent's body. He barely felt the blade as it crushed into his right eye. The huge mouth opened as if to protest, and then he was gone.

The victor lay there for a moment, breathing with effort. Finally, with a rasping whimper, he freed his impaled left hand. Standing, he didn't even glance at the corpse beside him. Instead his eyes turned, wary, to the observation deck above them.

He was there, of course. Calm, smiling, unruffled by the gore, his arms folded neatly into his sleeves. Behind him, a little to the left, the other watched as well, wide grin never leaving his face.

Staring at the pair of them, the shinigami snarled low, the red half-light playing in the depths of his pale green eyes. Then, clutching his wounded hand, he stepped back into the dry, dusty shadows, and vanished.

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"Well," Aizen said lightly, stepping out into the corridor. "That was entertaining."

Ichimaru Gin chuckled. "Gettin' to be costly, though. Third one this month, that is. And this last one packed some punch."

The overlord of Hueco Mundo shrugged. "Three out of ten is an acceptable loss. This test does not filter for power, after all. It brings out more … intangible qualities in a candidate."

Gin snorted. "It surely weeds out the dumb 'uns."

"Sousuke!"

Both men, turned, surprised. A woman was bearing down on them, alarm on her delicate features. Her black hair, caught in a bun at the nape of her neck, was beginning to unravel slightly.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Aizen stepped forward into Hinamori's embrace.

"Didn't you hear that? What was it?" The small woman gazed up into his eyes, searchingly. Ignoring Gin altogether, she gestured to the empty space to her right. "The children were frightened."

Aizen distractedly patted the air in the direction she had indicated. "There, there, Shirou. A wolf in the forest, that's all. Hurt, I would guess, from the howls. I'll take care of the poor thing." His eyes flickered to his lieutenant over the small black head. "Run along, there's a good boy, and fetch my medicinal herbs from the house. You too, Ran-chan."

Gin rubbed his long hands together, wordlessly. The arrancar healers were among the most vicious creatures he had ever encountered. That was always a show worth watching.

"Oh darling!" Hinamori buried her face into Aizen's robes, then smiled up at him. "You're so kind."

On hand caressing her face, Aizen reached down and kissed her lightly. "Thanks to you, my dear."

She did not answer for a moment, content in his arms. Her eyes rested on the plain wall of the passageway. "It's lovely here, isn't it," she said after a while, "with the poppies in bloom." She took a deep breath. "Sousuke … " she breathed, her beautiful black eyes filling with tears, "… after all this time, I just want you to know how glad I am … how proud …"

Aizen straightened, taking her hands in his. "Momo, Ichimaru Gin was a twisted, evil, sadistic bastard." The silent man beside him smirked. "If you hadn't come for me, if you hadn't shown me the error of my ways … I might still be under his control." His somber eyes gazed down at her. "I owe you everything. This place, this peace. Thank you."

As Hinamori walked away, Ichimaru spoke again. She couldn't hear him, anyway. "No matter how often I see it … that's pretty amazing, ya know. How much energy does it take, keepin' her that far under?"

"Not much, anymore." Aizen stared after her, his expression unreadable. "There is no part of her, after all, that wants to know the truth."

"She seems happy." Gin watched his captain intently through slit eyes.

"She is," Aizen snapped. For a brief second he glared, then returned to his ordinary unruffled composure. "I would make a poor husband if I didn't make sure of that, wouldn't I? Besides," he gestured to the chamber they had just left, a smile on his lips, "I did promise."

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Shielding his face from the desert sands, Kurosaki Ichigo ground his teeth. He didn't want to be here. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget their last excursion into the Hueco Mundo. Inoue, Chad, Hitsugaya, Rukia, all dead, and for what? To watch Aizen grow stronger every day. To lose the last five years of his life to this stupid, endless war.

"Pull your head out of your ass, idiot." Renji appeared next to him suddenly. "We're about to move."

"Who are you calling idiot, moron?" Ichigo snapped back. The two men were older, steadier, battle-tested and battle-weary. But some things never change.

Renji brushed off the habitual insult. "Look," he said, tensely. "This is a pure smash-and-grab job, you remember? Get in, find the defector, get out."

"Of course." Ichigo wasn't particularly good at stealth. He was just one of the few who could hope to return from such an operation alive. Besides, Mayuri had fitted them out with some nifty world-portal devices. If everything went well, they could theoretically retreat at any time.

"Just," Renji stared off into the cold setting sun, "don't go off looking for revenge. Not yet."

Ichigo closed his eyes. "I know," he murmured. Behind him, his team stirred restlessly. Somehow he knew, he could feel in his bones, this wasn't going to be that simple.

TBC


	2. Chapter II

_Do not own._

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Chapter 2

The Lure

Abarai Renji just stared. None of his muscles would obey him; no coherent thought would form in his mind. It. Was. Not. Possible.

He had seen Hitsugaya Toushirou killed with his own eyes. Ripped to pieces. He had held Matsumoto Rangiku for the next two months, trying to take the suicidal edge from her grief. Hitsugaya was dead, he was mourned, he was…

He was here. Unquestionably. Much taller – only a head shorter than himself, Renji thought. It was hard to tell as the younger man crouched in the corner, every muscle obviously coiled to spring. He was filthy and … damaged, his reiatsu missing entirely. But no one could mistake those eyes. Those eyes, cool pools of green in a sea of red dust, were boring into his former colleague, weighing him, warning him.

An explosion tore through the hallway, and Renji started. He felt one of his subordinates' reiatsu flicker and fail. Dammit! There was no time for this. His party was to provide the distraction while Ichigo broke into the cell block. He had to make for the Hougyoku; that would draw all of the city's guardians. If they didn't move soon, they would give away the game. Another blast tore through the wall not far behind him. If they didn't move soon, they'd be dead.

Before he could so much as twitch, however, Hitsugaya was in front of him, one hand drawn back. Something white and savage gleamed in that hand. Renji automatically brought up his hands to block the blow, whereupon Hitsugaya dropped, fluidly, into a spinning sweep. His heel caught Renji's ankle just at the nerve center, sending the taller man down with a crash.

In a flash, Hitsugaya – _could_ it be him? – was on top of him, scrambling for Zabimaru. But Renji had not become captain of the fifth division for nothing. Even his kidou had improved over the course of the war. "Bind," he barked, holding two fingers forward.

Not quite incantation-less, but close enough. The attacker's arms snapped behind him, and he fell, awkwardly, to one side.

"Captain!" Renji heard Fukinawa yell, as he struggled to his feet. And then, thank God, he felt the signal. Kurosaki sent out three blasts of spirit power in rapid succession. Time to go.

As his team raced towards him, the red-headed captain bent down and seized Hitsugaya's upper arm. They could sort this out in the Court of Tranquil Souls.

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"I want complete protection," the arrancar whined, scratching at her number in a neurotic kind of way. Bella was a long, thin creature, with violent purple hair. She looked around the spare office with obvious distaste. "A hidden location, a budget, a guard detail. I advise you against stinginess. The information I can provide… " Her voice trailed off, as her self-importance gave way to irritation. "Are you even listening to me?"

Captain Ukitake shook himself a little. He had not been listening, in fact. When Kurosaki and Abarai had returned … he still couldn't believe it. Entirely ignoring the arrancar's demands, he leaned forward. "Tell me what you know about Hitsugaya Toushirou."

The defector blinked. "Aizen-sama's baby dragon? What…" she broke off, sneering. "Oh no, you don't. Not before we reach an agreement. This sort of intelligence ain't cheap."

"We have already paid with the lives of three men," Ukitake snapped. The arrancar shied back from his sudden burst of angry energy. "All to rescue you from your imminent execution, and personally, I'm still not sure that you're not an enemy spy. I suggest you convince me."

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Unohana Retsu folded her hands in her lap as she addressed the assembly. As always, her face and voice were calm, soothing. But everyone could feel the tension in her spirit force, the hardness of her eyes. No one, not even Yamamoto-soutaichou, had ever seen her so angry.

"I have Hitsugaya-taichou sedated," she said, "and I have treated his body to the best of my ability. I could not do much. He has apparently sustained a great deal of injury – stab wounds, broken bones, trauma. But most of these seem to have been … repaired … after a fashion." At this point bitterness crept even into Unohana's measured tones.

The assembled captains did not know where to look. Most of them thought, quite rightly, that silence would be the better part of wisdom. Except, of course, for Kurotshuchi Mayuri. "Unohana-taichou, this … an opportunity to study arrancar healing techniques … perhaps when you are finished with h…"

The Fourth Division Captain barely glanced in his direction, and Kurotshuchi retreated, muttering.

Unohana resumed, as if she had heard nothing. "His reiatsu has hardly recovered at all. I confess we are at a loss. His chain link and soul sleep are intact, and therefore his spirit energy should recover completely. It has improved, very slightly, since he entered my care, but his power is still far below that of a shinigami."

Shunsui Kyouraku stirred, clenching and unclenching one fist. "The spirit and the body are linked, are they not? How has he grown so fast, without reiatsu? Even if he had remained here, he would still look about twelve years old."

When Unohana did not answer, Ukitake coughed slightly. "It is possible that aging process works differently in the Hueco Mundo. Or … though it is hard to contemplate … Aizen could have imprisoned him in a temporal rift. He may have been missing much longer than we have missed him."

With a swift glance at the Unohana, the white-haired captain continued, hesitantly. "More likely, well, according to our informant, his growth may have something to do with the diet forced upon him."

"Which was …"

"It need not be discussed," Unohana said, her mouth in a thin line.

A moment of profound awkwardness followed, broken only by Kurotshuchi's quiet, bubbling giggles.

"Of far more concern," Unohana said finally, her eyes downcast, "is the damage to Hitsugaya-taichou's mind. He recognizes no one. He …." For a second she paused, one slim hand to her mouth. Recovering, she almost whispered. "I would like to request that the captains help us restrain him. Even for my second and third seat, it is difficult to hold him down without hurting him.

"I also feel that no one outside this chamber should be told of his return."

At this point Renji sprang to his feet. "But Unohana-taichou, Matsumoto …"

"Matsumoto does not want to see her captain in this state, nor would he want her to."

For the first time, Zaraki Kenpachi spoke, in his habitual lazy growl. "He wouldn't want any of this. The brat was a warrior, once. Be kindest if you killed him."

This time Unohana turned her head slowly and met Zaraki's eyes directly. "Zaraki-taichou," she murmured, every syllable a threat. "Do not suggest that again."

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Aizen leaned back in his giant bed, closing his eyes. He would never admit it, but the raid had shaken him. Not Bella's defection of course. If he had thought her trustworthy, he wouldn't have ordered her death. If he had thought her significant, he would have killed her himself.

Hitsugaya's capture bothered him, though. Aizen couldn't say why. The boy was amusing, even useful, to Hueco Mundo, but he was hardly central to their plans. In his current state, the broken shinigami would hardly pose a threat. If anything, Soul Society would be distracted by trying to heal him.

Beside him, Hinamori shifted slightly, her hand instinctively finding his. Soothed despite himself, Aizen let his thoughts wander.

The first time he had seen her in the Hueco Mundo, she had fought her way past the lower guards, which was impressive in its own right. Gin had found her after that, a bloody mess, and had brought her directly to Aizen. Why, Aizen wondered idly, had he done that?

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"Renji."

The red-head grunted, unwilling to open his eyes.

"I know you're not asleep."

With a sigh, the captain of the fifth sat up, rubbed his eyes, and walked to the window. As he expected, Ichigo was outside. He sat on the casing, leaning against the wall, looking down on the courtyard.

"What the hell," Renji muttered, though he thought he knew exactly what this midnight visit was about.

"It must have been an illusion," Ichigo said, in a half-whisper. "Hitsugaya's death."

The other nodded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. The August night was hot; not a breath of air seemed to move over the Seireitei.

"We left him there."

Another nod. Here it comes.

"Renji… what about the others?"

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_"Aizen-taichou," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, "I've come …"_

_"Why have you come, Hinamori-kun?" he asked, sternly. He felt quite unaccountably angry._

_For a moment she flinched, as if he had slapped her. Then she gathered her courage and drew herself up. "I've come to save you, captain. Even if I'm too late, even if it means my death, I know," she swallowed, "I know that this is not the man you are."_

_For an instant the former Fifth Division Captain had allowed himself, not regret, but grudging admiration. After all those years of conditioning, he knew that this was not hypnosis speaking. This was she, herself. In a way, it had nothing to do with him._

_Love, or loyalty – perhaps these things ennoble the giver more than the recipient._

_Aizen glanced at Gin, and wondered, not for the first time, what secret plans his lieutenant harbored. But his course was clear. The ryouka had already entered his world, and he felt the reiatsu of Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji not far behind. Some inner intuition told him that Hitsugaya and Matsumoto would not be far behind._

_"Hinamori-kun," he said softly, drawing her close, drawing his katana beyond her vision, "come and talk with me."_

TBC


	3. Chapter III

_Thank you for the reviews! I am a little alarmed by how much I crave head-patting. _

_So, here's the new installment … I hope it's a little more interesting. More Zaraki, anyway. Heck, more Hitsugaya, now that I think of it._

_Do not own._

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Chapter 3

The Trap

Zaraki, Ichigo and Renji watched. It was almost hypnotic. Pace, turn, pause, listen. Pace. Turn. Pause.

Through the observation window, their eyes followed Hitsugaya around his hospital room. His eyes … never left theirs. It was spooky. He shouldn't have been able to see them at all.

Unohana had stopped his drips; the daily battles to keep him in bed were doing more harm than good. A tray of food lay on a table next to the door, untouched. Only the glass of water had moved, to the other side of the room. Every so often Hitsugaya would pause over the glass and dip his fingers, which he would then raise to his lips. Ichigo had grown up in a medical clinic, but he could think of no explanation for this behavior.

Zaraki was leaning against the wall, a bored look on his face. "Stupid woman," he snorted, stuffing his fists into his pockets. "Taking the kid from a big prison and stuffing him in a little one."

Renji stood close to the glass, laying one hand against its cool surface. Hitsugaya looked so different. His snow-white hair had been cleaned and cut, but it was no longer spiky; instead it hung thick, fine and loose around his eyes. "I can still barely feel any of his reiatsu. Can he sense ours, do you think?"

"Nah," the big man grunted, pulling up alongside. "He just thinks we're here. OY, squirt!" he yelled, pounding on the glass, "Just say hello, already!"

Without warning, Renji suddenly felt a hand reach into his chest. With a gasp, he flew backwards. The fist clenched, clenched, clenched around his heart – it was going to explode, he couldn't bear it …

He glanced to his right. Ichigo had also hit the wall, and had slid down it, clutching his throat. Even Zakari had staggered back a step. "What … " gargled Ichigo, "what the hell … he's got no spirit power …"

The Captain of the Eleventh licked his lips slowly. Hitsugaya was crouched on the hospital bed, ready to move, murder on his face. "That's not reiatsu," Zakari said, half-chucking. "That's killing intent."

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_"Aizen," Hitsugaya said, once again, "I will kill you."_

_Aizen regarded his opponent steadily, a half smile on his face. He couldn't help it. The child was so cute._

_"I congratulate you, Toushirou-kun," he said, lounging back in his chair. "I didn't feel you coming at all, until you actually entered the room. You've learned excellent control."_

_The young captain drew his sword in answer. _

_"And your strategic sense is exemplary. Your friends' attack has drawn off all of my defenses. I'm quite alone." He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "But so are you. Surely, after the last time, you don't think you can beat me?"_

_Without warning, he threw an image of himself forward. Hitsugaya closed his eyes – truly remarkable eyes, Aizen thought – and charged straight through the illusion. A split second later, Hyourinmaru was lodged in the back of Aizen's chair. The traitor, having barely avoided the blow, dusted off one sleeve in surprise. The next second, the room was populated with dozens of Aizens, all dusting. The air filled with their sound and scent. _

_Hitsugaya yanked his katana free. "Ban kai," he rasped. Aizen nearly slipped as the floor froze over. A second later he dropped deliberately as the ice blade slashed over his head. Then he was forced to leap up and away, barely dodging a direct strike by the spiked tail._

_"So," he said calmly, from where he landed on the table. "You are closing your mind to my illusions? No, that's not possible. You are tracking me by my spirit force." He applauded lightly. "Not bad at all."_

_"However," he continued, languidly, "I tire of this game." With one hand, he opened a portal to the other side of the palace. "Hinamori-kun, will you come out here for a moment?"_

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Zaraki's first thought was to break the glass right away. Killing force as strong as a captain's reiatsu? That, he had to fight.

Then he paused. Unohana Retsu was one of the few people that he truly respected. Respected and feared. She had treated him a thousand times; he had no doubt that she could kill him without straining a muscle.

He lowered his first, muttering a low curse. Behind him, Abarai struggled to his feet, gasping. He could hear Ichigo say something about informing someone about something, and then …. he could hear nothing.

He could see nothing. He stood in a world of blackness, without form or meaning. "What the hell," he swore, but the words died on his lips, swallowed by the darkness.

_Zaraki Kenpachi_. A voice spoke, a woman's voice. It seemed to come from all directions at once.

"Who the #$&# are you?" he roared, lashing out with … his katana was no longer in his hands.

For a moment, only emptiness answered him. Angry emptiness. Then he heard: _You do not know who I am_.

Zaraki hesitated, caught up short. Was it possible …? All of his attempts to speak to his zanpakutou had failed, utterly, and he'd been trying for five years. He chose his next words very carefully. "Do you want me to know you?"

Another silence, much longer, followed this question. When the woman spoke again, an infinite sadness filled her voice. _That child_, she said, _he has forgotten his name_.

The big man did not know how to respond, so he held his peace. _He has been abandoned_, the voice continued, growing louder. _He has been enslaved. His true power has been stolen from him._

Zaraki knew, with a cold feeling in his stomach, that she wasn't really talking about Hitsugaya.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

A slight wind ruffled past him, setting his bells a-tinkle.

_If you can save him, maybe I can forgive you._

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_"This is just another illusion," Hitsugaya murmured, his eyes squeezed closed. He took an involuntary step backwards. Every hair on the back of his neck was raised._

_"Hitsugaya-kun," Hinamori pleaded, her eyes filled with tears, "it's all right, it's okay, he's come back to us. He's our captain again."_

_"You know it's real," Aizen said softly. Even with his eyes closed, Hitsugaya could tell that Hinamori could not hear him. "You can sense her spirit."_

_Then, to the girl, "Our friend thinks you are a fake, Hinamori-kun. He still does not trust me. . Please, can you tell him something that I wouldn't know?"_

_Hinamori considered for a moment. Her friend, her oldest friend – she had to save him. Aizen had told him all of Ichimaru's plans for him. How could she bring him around? "Do you remember that time we watched the stars from the roof, Hitsugaya-kun?" she asked. "When I was first accepted to the academy? You told me, you said, goodbye and good riddance. But, if I every needed a favor… I need a favor, Hitsugaya-kun, I need you to trust me! I swear …"_

_"Stupid," growled the child, his face almost as white as his hair, "Hinamori probably told you that when she was your vice-captain." _

_"Then ask her a question."_

_An eternity seemed to pass. Hitsugaya could barely choke out the words. He knew the truth already; he just had to be sure. "You always sent me a card on my birthday. Your first year at the academy, before you met … anyone … what color was it?"_

_"White," she answered promptly, "it was the last of the paper you had given me. After that I sent the blue and pink ones I could buy at school."_

_She advanced on him, arms outstretched. "We can end all this, if you'll just believe me! We can defeat Ichimaru with your help, Shir—"_

_"Don't!" he barked, backing away further. He glanced up at his enemy, and read all of his fears in the older man's face. The things he could do to her – and there was no reaching her. None. "Aizen," he growled, holding back tears. "In private, please."_

_Aizen nodded, and passed his fingers before Hinamori's eyes. She froze._

_A few minutes later, she woke, unaware that any time had passed. She saw her childhood friend before he, looking relieved. "Sorry, Momo," he said, shrugging, "I can be dense, sometimes."_

_He took her hands and smiled at her. Her heart lifted. That smile had always been only for her. "Listen, I've got to head back to Seireitei. I'll tell them your plan – it's not bad. I think we might have a shot at taking the bastard down." He touched her wet cheeks. "Don't cry," he ordered gruffly. "You look extra dumb when you cry."_

_She kissed him on the forehead. He turned, waved over his shoulder, and disappeared into an otherworld portal._

_She gave an ecstatic cry, and clapped her hands. "Oh captain, he'll get help! I know he will! You can always count on my Shirou-chan!" In her joy, she hugged Aizen and, forgetting herself, kissed him swiftly on the lips. Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes, but her captain did not push her away. Looking up at him, she smiled again. "Everything's going to be alright now, isn't it?" she whispered._

_"Yes, my dear," he said, gently. "Everything will be fine. I've promised."_

_After she had gone, Aizen hummed to himself, caressing Hyourinmaru's long cold blade. Then, with a flourish, he threw the sword into the air. It shattered, and its fragments melted to nothingness before they reached the floor._

_Hitsugaya came slowly out of the shadows. It had been strange, watching an illusion of himself leave this place. His heart constricted, knowing that he would never be able to do the same._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Zaraki came to himself slowly. He didn't know how long he had communed with his zanpakutou. The others were gone; he was alone in the corridor.

On the other side of the glass, Hitsugaya had come closer. Their eyes locked: icy green with black flint. Zaraki knew that look.

_Let_. _Me_. _Out._

With a broad grin, the Eleventh Division Captain pulled back his fist. This should be fun.

TBC

_So, next installment will have all that violence I promised. OK so far??_


	4. Chapter IV

_OK, this chapter has violence and bad language and some ..umm.. unpleasantness. You have been warned. Nothing graphic or sexual, just ... disturbing. Think of it as the "horror" part of the genre label. _

_I tried to write it out or tone it down, but then the story didn't work. Opened up this plot hole, and when you plugged that one up, another one pops up, etc, etc But I promise things get much nicer next chapter. _

_Thanks again for the reviews! Feel free to criticize, by the way, I'm tough._

_Do not own._

Chapter 4

The Hunt

Interesting, Zaraki thought, as he jumped back. He had expected the brat to attack directly. Instead Hitsugaya dove through the broken glass, scratching himself up something fierce, rolled, and instantly bolted down the corridor. By the time Zaraki recovered from the shock and gave chase, the prodigy had made it out into the open air.

The massive captain stood on division four's rooftops, frowning in concentration. He wasn't good enough at this sensory shit, not to find a spirit that weak. Hitsugaya hadn't just escaped, though. Anyone could sense that much.

Anyone, that is, who had ever been on the hunt. Zaraki ginned, wolf-like. Kid was watching him.

He remembered Hitsugaya's funeral like it was yesterday. Everyone acting all stoic, making stupid speeches about heroism and what not. Everybody but Jidanbou, of course. Damned giant retard had sobbed throughout the ceremony. Would'a thought it was raining. "He … he taught me the rules of the city," he'd wailed, cutting off Yamamoto. "He taught me how to fight civilized! To fight fair! He... he …" Then he'd collapsed, blubbering. Wounded two shinigami in the process.

Zaraki scanned the horizon. A thousand hiding places, a thousand set-ups for a nice blood-thirsty ambush. Looks like our boy finally realized the truth, over there.

Ain't no such thing as a fair fight.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Aizen looked down on his sleeping wife, one hand playing in her hair. He supposed there was no reason to keep her, was there? That had been the agreement, after all. As long as Hitsugaya remained, alive, in the Hueco Mundo, she would be safe. Safe and happy.

Of course, he doubted whether the boy even remembered the arrangement, these last few years. And it was not like he had deliberately escaped…

Aizen brought himself up short. He was rationalizing. He never rationalized.

Angrily he jumped out of bed, throwing his robe around himself. He reached for his sword, and pulled it savagely out of its scabbard. The blade glowed dully in the firelight.

Hinamori shifted, murmured, cradling an imaginary baby in her womb. She was truly beautiful, he realized with a pang. He did not love her – he would not, even if he were capable of love. But he had grown used to her. She comforted him.

He remembered Hitsugaya's eyes as she had walked away from him that last time. "There, there, Captain" Aizen had mocked, his blood still high. It had been a long time since anyone had actually attacked him, not his shadow. "I'll take good care of your sister-lover."

"She's not my sister or my lover," the child had answered quietly, not moving, hardly breathing. "She is home to me."

Home. Ridiculous. Aizen sheathed his sword with an irritated snort. The girl could still be useful to him, he supposed. At least, he should wait to kill her – he would like Hitsugaya to watch.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Zaraki fell heavily, surprised even in his state of readiness. He had expected an attack from any side, from above, even from below. He had not expected the ground to give way.

Son of a bitch! Kid had lured him here, showing his mop of white hair just above the rooftop. And like a sucker, he'd hauled his ass over to stand on a patch of weak tiles. $# shoddy workmanship.

The teenager, heavier than he had been five years ago, had jumped down from a taller building, and landed with a cracking thud a few feet above Zaraki. The two had fallen two stories together, caught in a landslide of mortar and ceramic. Zaraki landed first, on his back; the impact knocked the wind out of him for just a second. Hitsugaya, on the other hand, managed to break most of his fall on the heavier body. Gasping, he reared back, one fist wrapped around a long piece of glass. Zaraki's eyebrows lifted, impressed -- must have grabbed it from the observation window.

His head clearing, he watched impassively as the brat drove the wedge into his chest. Ow! That probably sank in a good three inches, dammit!

Poor Hitsu, the big man thought, seeing the green eyes widen in alarm. He had aimed square at the heart – that would have killed most anyone else.

Before the boy could react, a massive fist closed around his throat. In one motion, Zaraki slammed him against the ground, taking his wind in turn. "Sorry, kid," he chuckled dryly, pulling the shard from his chest. "I have killing intent AND spirit power."

"Now," he said darkly, removing his eye patch. "Let's talk."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Matsumoto Rangiku, Captain of the Ninth Division, made her way wearily up the Seireitei's streets. She was just returning from a long mission – skirmishes with arrancars on the outskirts of the Rukongai. It felt like they got closer every day.

She touched her shoulder tentatively, and was answered with a spike of pain. Tch. Unohana would scold her for this. "Honestly, Matsumoto-taichou," the healer had sighed, just last month, "you get more and more reckless. What am I going to do with you?"

Matsumoto's face hardened when she remembered what had come next. "Remember that we still need you," Unohana had said softly, propelling her colleague out the door, "and that nothing will bring back the dead."

She knew that. She just …

Don't think about it, she told herself savagely. Don't weaken. These aren't the times for ditzy, overemotional blondes. She could hear Hitsugaya's voice, deep in her subconscious. Just do your damned job, he told her.

At least her job meant killing as many of Aizen's filthy little minions as possible. She smiled savagely, her blue eyes flashing fire. Today had been a bloodbath. Apparently she had earned quite the reputation with the arrancar army – some of them actually tried to run when they saw her.

The fighting also got her out of these god-awful, tedious captains' meetings. Matsumoto had never been one for bureaucracy. Her vice-captain had just emerged, frazzled, from a mountain of paperwork, to inform her that she had missed one yesterday. Oh well. Them's the breaks.

In a happier mood, she shunpo'ed up the street and turned up the hill towards the central offices. Maybe it was her speed, or maybe he was just too occupied, but Zaraki never saw her coming.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hitsugaya thrashed desperately. He was flat on his back, pinned by Zaraki's monstrous spirit force. But no matter how he squirmed, his fingers clawing the ground for purchase, he couldn't break free.

"Don't like it when you can't move, do ya?" The giant had removed his first from the younger man's neck. But he still sat alongside, one arm draped across his raised knee.

To his surprise, the brat suddenly stopped struggling. He just lay there -- eyes closed, fists tight, jaw clenched. Giving up? Feh, Zaraki thought, disgusted. Sure, he's got no chance. But me and my boys, we fight to the end. Figured he'd be the same.

He watched Hitsugaya's chest jerk in short, panicked breaths. Kid was trembling like a leaf. Zaraki wanted to shake him, to force some pride into him, to _make_ him fight. But then, whether from pity, or some zanpakutou-born understanding, he paused.

You keep fighting, even when there's no hope: that's the Eleventh Squad way. You fight for a glorious death. You fight out of respect for your opponent. You fight for the sheer fuckin' joy of it. But …if your enemies are a bunch of nasty cowardly … if they have you, but they won't kill you … if they just get off on watching you twist …well, then, I guess you don't give 'em the satisfaction.

Zaraki sighed, suddenly depressed. "I ain't gonnna hurt you, kid," he growled, "not unless I have to. But I ain't letting you go, either. There's a part of you that remembers who you are." He poked the protruding ribs with one huge finger. "You don't want to, and who can blame you? No animal likes to think on when it was human."

He shifted his weight into a squat. "Tell you what. I'll let you up when you can say your name. Tourshirou'll do, for now. Just say it. Tou. Shi. Rou."

The small frame shuddered, and the white head turned away from him. Never a patient man, Zaraki upped his reiatsu slightly. Hitsugaya whimpered as his shoulder were forced deeper into the mud. "Tell me your name."

The big captain swore at him. "They never brought you jack-all for a 'diet', did they?" he spat. He couldn't say why he was so angry. "Made you eat what you killed. Arrancar meat – high-power, livin' spirit particles – that's a balanced breakfast. No wonder you grew so fast."

He put one huge hand in the white hair and tried to make Hitsugaya look at him. "Stop hiding from it, you brainwashed pansy! You do what you have to do. Hell, if I were your old man, I'd be proud!" Zakari was yelling now. "Tell me your goddamned name!"

It was only by dumb luck that Zaraki Kenpachi didn't lose an arm that day. He withdrew it, frustrated, just as Haineko swung down. Before he knew what was happening, Matsumoto stood between him and the prone figure before him. Her sword and her eyes were blazing with fury. "What … the HELL…are you doing?!?!!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Ichimaru Gin stepped into the chamber, humming to himself. It was a sprawling ruin of barracks, pillars, and catwalks. In the center, one open street stretched the length of the mansion-sized space. He wondered, fleetingly, if the place used to be an old training ground. Or, could be that it was designed exactly like this, broken stone and everything. Hueco Mundo was a strange place._

_It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. He sat hunched in the corner of an open-roofed hut, as far from the entrance as he could manage. On the other side of room, Ichimaru could see two bodies piled neatly against the wall. His smile grew even wider. That's Hitsugaya Toushirou for you. In the midst of all this desolation, he would still try to be orderly._

_It was raining outside. It was a rare event in the Hueco Mundo; the desert only saw precipitation six or seven times a year. The patter of water on the vast roof echoed through the silent space._

_Ichimaru's invisible eyebrows lifted. Ah. So that's why he's in the same room as the dead arrancar. A slow drip of water was falling into the center of the hut. There must be a tiny crack above them. Ichimaru craned his neck upward, but the chamber was too tall; the ceiling disappeared totally into the shadows. _

_Hitsugaya ignored his visitor totally. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the puddle on the floor. Over the millennium, the leak must have worn away the stone, leaving a small depression. It was about the size of a rice bowl. _

_Drip. Drip. _

_"Yo, Tenth-Captain-san!" the tall man greeted cheerfully, not really expecting a response. "I brought dinner."_

_The kid didn't even look up. Gin smiled ruefully. Guess he knows me too well, he thought._

_"OK, just joking. But seriously, you should eat." He glanced at the corpses across the way. "They won't keep forever, not in this heat."_

_The boy shuddered, and his face sunk deeper into his arms._

_Gin folded his hands behind his back and leaned forward condescendingly. "Could I pat your cute li'l head," he wondered aloud, with a nasty grin, "without gettin' my hand bitten off?"_

_This was rewarded with a low growl._

_"Aya, that's not nice." _

_Gin straightened and sauntered towards the door. He found that he almost felt bad about this. "Hinamori's doing fine, by the way. Thanks for asking. Soul Society helped her kill me. You come and visit time to time. Oh! And she 'n Captain Aizen, they're gonna get married, retire to the country. Happily ever after."_

_He paused at the shattered doorway, staring out at the ghost city. "If you don't eat," he said softly, "we'll just force ya, y'know. You won't like that. But you're no use to us weak. And if you die, well…. Hinamori's likely to get a lot less happy." He waved happily, "Ja, ne? Oh, and I'd save that, if I were you. Don't happen too often."_

_After he had gone, Hitsugaya shifted slightly. He couldn't take it any more. He reached forward and dipped his first two fingers into the rainwater. Then he lifted his hand, shaking, to his mouth._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Zaraki backed off, annoyed. He was NOT in the mood to deal with hysterical females.

"Bastard … what … you …" Matsumoto actually stuttered, incoherent with rage.

Zaraki heaved a sigh and shrugged. With a short jerk of the head, he indicated the young man behind her.

Shaking, Matsumoto turned slowly. Hitsugaya had scrambled to his feet the moment the reiatsu had been lifted. Now he stood trapped between the blonde woman and the wall. He backed up hastily, almost tripping on the broken roof tiles at his feet.

"Captain…" Matsumoto whispered, frozen. It wasn't possible. She had thought, when she'd first seen him … she didn't know what she had thought. He was wearing white hospital robes. With his hair and sickly pale skin, he looked more like a ghost than anything else. A hideous scar ran across his forehead, and another down his neck

Looking at his former vice-captain, Hitsugaya's expression changed. His death-glare wavered, replaced by wide-eyed shock. Shock and fear. When he could back up no further, he bent a little, one hand against the wall. His gaze never left her face.

Forgetting Zakari altogether, Matsumoto moved forward slowly. Instinctively, she approached him as she would a cornered animal, one arm outstretched in a soothing motion. When she was close enough, she reached a trembling hand to his cheek.

For a split second he accepted her touch. Then, as if electrified, he broke and ran. Even without shunpo, he had disappeared in a matter of seconds.

"Tch," Zaraki grunted. "Now I have to chase him down again."

"Zaraki-taichou." Her voice was soft, and she did not look at him. But he could feel the energy build around her rigid body. The buildings around them began to vibrate slightly; all of the dust in the alleyway seemed to lift a little off the ground. "I believe that you and I need to fight."

TBC

_So, yeah… unpleasant. Sorry. But it's kind of tangentially necessary to the plot, …_

_(yes, there is a plot. Of sorts.)_

_Next chapter is the last one! Yay!_

_Flames accepted and well-merited, at this point._


	5. Chapter V

_Yay reviews! Thank you muchly. For those of you I traumatized last time, many sorries. I hope this makes up for it._

_Do not own._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Chapter 5

The Pack

"Rangiku, no!"

Zaraki threw up his hands in disgust. WHY must people interfere with other people's fights? He had been _this close_ to seeing Matsumoto's ban kai, and it was, by all accounts, a pip. Then this sissy boy Abarai has to jump in. The red-haired captain held the woman from behind in an arm lock, whispering in her ear to calm her down.

Matsumoto did not look like she wanted to calm down. She had already demolished the buildings on either side. Then, suddenly something seemed to snap inside her. She relaxed into Renji's arms with a little sob, and his grip changed into a fierce hug.

"Zaraki," Renji snarled, his usual official courtesy thrown aside. "I take it the patient escaped from his room?"

The big man stared for a moment. He couldn't remember Abarai ever using that tone of voice with him. If he was lucky, he might be able to fight the both of them…

He shook himself. No time. "You could say that. Shouldn't be too far from here, though. His pressure's weak, but it's there. Think you can find him?"

Renji closed his eyes and gave himself over to a full minute of intense concentration. Finally, he nodded. "Don't look," he said quietly. "The fir tree behind me, to the west. Pretty high up."

Zaraki swore quietly. He couldn't fight up there; the branches wouldn't hold his weight. Which was why the brat had chosen it, of course. Not that it would do him any good. If he wanted to, Zaraki could push the tree over with one finger.

Sudden comprehension washed over the eleventh squad captain. Hitsugaya might have gone feral, but he wasn't dumb. Zaraki thought back on everything he'd seen and heard the last few days. All of the boy's attacks were designed the same way: they were fast, hard to block, but left him wide open to a counterstrike. In fact, he seemed to offer his opponent a simple choice: take this hit hard, or hit me hard.

According to Ukitake, the arrancar were forbidden to kill him. They would have feared Aizen more than a beat-down teenage shinigami. That fear would cause them to hesitate just a fraction of a second before defending themselves. Just enough.

Are we any different? Zaraki thought. He wasn't about to knock down that tree. Unohana would kill him.

"We need to get him off the streets," he said flatly, looking at the ruined block around them. "But he's not going back inside, I guarantee it. Know anyplace big, but contained?"

Abarai hestitated, then nodded. "There's a cavern under the Soukyouku," he said, "Kurosaki and I trained for bankai there. Speaking of, he's on his way. Ichigo, I mean. I can feel it. So are a lot of people." He glanced nervously down the street. "Let's hurry. Think we can chase him in that direction?"

"Mmm, yeah, that'll do." Zaraki scratched his head and hefted his blade to his broad shoulders. "If you catch him, knock him out and drag him the rest of the way. DO NOT go easy on him, hear? He'll kill you for sure."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The three shinigami stood at the entrance of the cave, breathing hard. That .. had been difficult. They all had some gashes and bruises that had not been there an hour ago. But Hitsugaya was now safely inside, and according to Abarai there was only one entrance.

How is there so much light, then? Matsumoto wondered, rubbing her sore arm. Urahara's work, no doubt. She looked up and around at the mouth of the cave. It wasn't too large; they could probably seal it with a kidou. For a moment she looked out over the Seireitei, at the stark white buildings gleaming in the sun. Then she turned back to stare into the depths of the cavern. He was hiding somewhere in there. It hurt her, in indefinable ways, that her captain was hiding from her.

Zaraki straightened and stretched. "Well, now," he yawned. "I could do with some grub."

"Zaraki-taichou." The trio whirled around, honestly alarmed by the gentle voice. Captain Unohana stood behind them, hovering on the open air, the most terrifying look on her face. "Please explain."

Zaraki mumbled, scuffing his feet against the stone. "Zaraki-taichou," Unohana repeated, her voice rising slightly. "I asked you a question. What are you doing?"

The giant captain rallied. Damned if he'd be bullied by a woman. "Therapy," he snapped.

She drew herself up, but he cut her off before she could speak. "He wasn't gonna heal in your little pen, Unohana. I figure he's had enough of those."

"Are you comparing my hospital to Aizen's torture chambers?" she hissed. Behind him, Renji and Rangiku took a step backwards.

"I am, actually," he said carelessly. Then he held up his massive hands in a conciliatory manner. "Settle down, Captain," he said. "I may not be all that smart, but I've got… insight …into violence. I can get to him. Back in the day, it was the same for me -- kill or be killed."

Unohana stopped short, surprised. Zaraki never talked about his life in district 80.

"Course, for the kid," he continued, jerking a thumb behind him, "it was kill or be hurt. That makes a big difference." He rubbed his chin; his big face looked grim and sad. "Come to think on it, that's a lot worse."

The healer had calmed down enough to speak, by this point. "My treatments may not be to your taste, _Captain_," she said icily. "But I would like to try NOT beating sanity into him. If you please."

"I don't please," Zaraki growled.

"How is this … this ... travesty different from what Aizen did to him?"

"He hasn't killed me; I haven't hurt him. It's a start."

For just a moment, Renji feared that the stone walls would cave in on them. Two of the most powerful beings in Soul Society glared at each other, fury in their hearts.

As could be expected, Zaraki looked away first. "Let me try, Retsu," he muttered. She started and blushed at his use of her name. "Please. Maybe you can tame a wild animal with kindness. A caged animal…" he looked over his shoulder into the empty cavern. "A caged animal, first you have to set it free."

As if in answer, a stone whizzed through the air, catching Zaraki on the temple. He stumbled and almost fell. When he looked down, he saw Hitsugaya standing out in the open. The pale eyes stared up at him unblinking, then the boy jerked his head in an unmistakable gesture. The little bastard was calling him out.

"See?" Zaraki grinned over his shoulder at Unohana. "Kid's feeling better already."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Rangiku …"

Matsumoto felt Renji touch her hand, questioningly. She gave him a little smile. I'm okay, she seemed to say. It'll all catch up to me tomorrow. Around two in the morning, I'd guess. But for now, I can hold myself together.

"Listen," Renji continued, as Zaraki bounced down the rock cliff towards Hitsugaya. "I have an idea. We saw something strange at the hospital earlier … If I can find Ichigo, I can take care of the arrangements, but I'll need you to run down to the city for the rest."

"What about …" Matsumoto whispered, glancing at the healer beside them.

Renji's eyes followed hers. Unohana did not look happy. "We'll fill her in when we get back," he murmured. "She doesn't look like she wants to be disturbed right now."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Unohana watched from the high rock, nervously fingering her braid. She was not at all sure that this was the right course of action. In fact, she was almost certain that this was very, very wrong.

On the other hand, she had to admit, her treatments had accomplished nothing this last week. As Hitsugaya's strength had returned, he had only become more aggressive. You couldn't talk to him, you couldn't enter his _room_, without being attacked.

It was not, of course, the first time she had seen such a case. She was a military medic, after all. She knew that stronger measures were called for. As a doctor, she should prescribe restraints, shock treatment, and personality-altering drugs. As a researcher, she had compiled the statistics; she knew how unlikely it was that the child would completely recover. Her cures would, at best, leave him sedate and compliant, a shadow of his former self.

But this was _Hitsugaya_. Her chest hurt when she thought of it. Unohana had always nursed a soft spot for the little captain. His grave arrogance, his awkward sweetness. For all his posturing, he had been so innocent. So young. She had cried for hours when he had died.

Words could not describe her emotions when Renji had dragged him into her office, bound, struggling and screaming. She had wanted to kill everyone in all of the worlds.

She had not shown this to anyone, of course. It would not do. But she could not, she _would_ not, treat him as just another casualty of war.

So, against all of her better judgment, she waited. She watched.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Oh no, you don't." Zaraki caught Hitsugaya by the back of his collar, and pulled him effortlessly down. "Stop tryin' to run; you'll wear me out."

The teenager landed in a sitting position, and immediately scrambled backwards. His hands groped over the ground for something to throw. The shinigami above him sighed. Those rocks hurt, when they landed.

"Tell me your name," Zaraki insisted, for the thousandth time. It felt like they had been doing this for hours, circling this little clearing in the boulders. He neatly dodged a fist-sized stone flying at his face, only to receive a second in the solar plexus. He let out a roar, and lunged forward without thinking. With a yelp, the boy tried to make another break for it. Once again Zaraki caught him, and pushed him back to the center of the ring.

"Tell me your name!" he shouted.

This couldn't go on much longer. The kid was clearly exhausted. And despite his bravado before Unohana, Zaraki had to admit that he didn't really have much of a plan. What was he going to do when the brat collapsed? Even if he did manage to say his name, what next? Tuck him in? Read him bedtime stories?

Hitsugaya was bent over, his hands on his thighs, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. His knees shook visibly underneath him. The only thing keeping him going, Zaraki realized, was pure, habitual, muscle-engrained fear. He _had_ to keep moving.

Brat wasn't sweating, though. The thought struck Zaraki unexpectedly, out of the blue. Weird.

"That's enough, Kenpachi." Abarai was standing over them, casting a long shadow into their little arena. "You're not going to help him that way."

"You got a better idea, monkey boy?" Zaraki _was_ sweating, by now, and he was starting to get ticked off.

Renji scowled. "I do, actually."

At his signal, four more shinigami instantly formed a circle around Hitsugaya: Abarai, Matsumoto, Kurosaki, Unohana. Zaraki wanted to tell them all to bugger off; this was his kill. Then he caught himself, calmed himself, and grudgingly let it go.

Surrounded, the young man stood shakily and turned, examining the net, trying to find a way out. It was hopeless, of course. Five to one, and no room to maneuver. For just a second, the liquid green eyes took on an expression of pure despair.

Renji's heart tightened, and he bit his lip. This had better work.

They caught him easily enough, binding him with a kidou. (You should really learn these one day, Abarai told Zaraki, irritably.) Then Ichigo and Renji took one arm each and started dragging him along. But he had gone limp again, dead weight, which made for slow going. Zaraki swore, picked Hitsugaya up, and flung him over one shoulder. He could feel the racing heart pound against his back.

"Where to?" he growled.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"There are some hot springs on the other side of this cavern," Ichigo said, pointing. "They're volcanic, I think. I asked one of my subordinates – an ice wielder – to freeze them solid, but they should be liquid again by now."

The springs were not completely melted; great chunks of ice still floated on the surface. Nevertheless, as soon as Abarai removed his kidou, Zaraki dumped his burden unceremoniously into the water.

At first nothing happened. The cold mist parted and swirled while Histugaya sank, unresisting, to the bottom.

"What is this, Abarai?" Zaraki rumbled, annoyed. "Sure, he needed a bath, but…"

Then they felt it.

Every shinigami has such a unique aura, Matsumoto thought. When she had fought Zaraki, the monster's spirit power had pounded down on her, threatening to crush her. Unohana's reiatsu tended to envelope her, so warm and comfortable she didn't even notice that it was there. She could feel Yamamoto's power like a tingling in all of her limbs. Her own was like an earthquake, Renji's like a primal scream.

Hitsugaya-taichou's reiatsu, so loved, so long missed, swept through her. She felt his essence rise like storm winds from the north, wild and strong. She thought she would be lifted up and carried away. Mingled in the whirlwind she could sense the pure child-like joy that was such an integral part of her captain's character, and that he had so seldom shown to anyone.

She remembered, though. When he had first looked out on the Tenth Division – his division. When she had bought him ice cream, and had walked away before he could refuse it. When his men had performed well in the inter-squad competitions. When they had watched fireworks on his birthday. Whenever he had seen Hinamori smile.

Matsumoto didn't even notice that she was crying.

Unohana smiled, her heart awash with relief. Really, what was wrong with her? She had been so furious about her patient's condition, she had forgotten her basic medicine. Well, she had treated him for dehydration, of course. Five drips would have been more than enough for any other shinigami.

But this was an ice spirit, a strong one. And they must have kept him very dry, for a very long time. That explained his odd behavior with the glass of water, she thought, anger bubbling inside her again. They wouldn't bring him food or water. He must have trained himself to drink only a few drops at a time. Whatever he could find, he had to make it last.

Hitsugaya's white head burst through the surface. He took a deep gasp of air, and instantly submerged again. Newly formed green ice cracked around the edges of the pool.

"Come on," Matsumoto said, wiping her face. "This might take a while. I've packed a lunch."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

An hour later, they all sat around the picnic blanket, gazing into the crater of the pool. Hitsugaya, sitting at the bottom, had drained it entirely. His parched body had absorbed every drop of moisture in the cave, as far as they could tell. Even his robes, after soaking for so long, were bone dry. Only the white mist remained, thick and chilly but oddly comforting.

The five shinigami did not rush him. They did not even react when he peeked, warily, over the edge of the crater. (though Matsumoto had to suppress a giggle. His hair was spiky again.)

After a few minutes of his silent stare, however, Kenpachi got to his feet. The boy's head immediately vanished back into the hole.

"Oy, gaki," Zaraki drawled. He picked up a bento box and placed it on the ground, not too close to the others, but far enough from the pool to force the brat out. "You gotta be hungry by now." He settled back down by Unohana, who patted his knee.

Eventually, Hitsugaya pulled himself up, crept nervously forward, and knelt by the food. For a long time he continued to watch the others. But the shinigami did not attack, and their auras remained calm and soothing. He allowed himself to look down at the bento box. Matsumoto held her breath; she had packed all of his favorites.

He ate slowly, unsmiling, as if dazed. But they could feel a thin vein of happiness blossom in his reiatsu, like frost on a windowpane, delicate and beautiful. Matsumoto thought, dreamily, I should enjoy this while I can. Before he learns to bottle himself away again.

When he had finished, Unohana finally spoke. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked at her, apparently uncomprehending, and raised himself to the balls of his feet. He balanced there, indecisive, his fingertips just touching the ground. For a second it looked like he would try to run again.

Zaraki snorted, less gently. "Skittish little colt, aint'cha?"

The bright green eyes snapped back in his direction, and Zaraki fought to keep his reiatsu steady. Idiot! He berated himself. Don't go scaring him!

But Hitsugaya's startled, wide-eyed face faded into something different, something more confident. It was the face of someone who had fought all day, toe to toe, with Zaraki Kenpachi.

He also looked like he was trying to remember something. "Toushirou," he said at last, huskily. It sounded as if he had not used his voice in a very, very long time.

Zaraki could hear his zanpakutou humming joyfully in the back of his mind. He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "You're welcome," he said.

END

_I think that we like to watch heroes suffer because they find a way to survive it. The pain is necessary so that the comfort can come. So, um, I threw poor Hitsu into a prison for five years, where the jailors brought him no food or water, where he had to fight to the death or be beaten, just so I could throw him a pond afterwards. And give him a bento box. I am twisted and strange. _

_But yeah, I stumbled on that Hitsu-whump page and thought, heck, the thing that would hurt him most would be the Hueco Mundo desert .. hot, no water. Hence the title, Dry heat, which in retrospect I regret. Sounds like a porn movie. _

_Anyway, fin. The conflict was supposed to be 3fold – why had he grown, why he had no spirit force, and whether Zaraki could save him. If I've done this right, they should all be resolved. _

_I guess it could be interesting to think about a sequel to all this … he's still going to be pretty messed up for a while. He'd be simultaneously more dangerous and more innocent than he was before, and it would be fun to explore what aspects of his old personality survive. Hyourinmaru's missing, Hinamori's still out there, and we don't know about the others (Inoue, Chad, Rukia, etc.). Zaraki's just now made contact with his sword. And like Drake-Azathoth says, (thank you for the great review!) Yachiru's reaction sure would be interesting. _


End file.
